


i can’t recall your face (but i still got love for you)

by coveredinsun



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, LET HIM BE SUPPORTED 2020, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, and it lasted all of like two (2) seconds, because we only saw ONE emotional scene between them, but i digress, let sokka express his feelings 2020, like fr PLSSS give him one pls, like fr i really think he deserved more emotional scenes, maybe make it from katara! just a thought, oh yeah and katara is There for him, this is a sokka fic above all, will annoy me to the end of time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredinsun/pseuds/coveredinsun
Summary: “Ending this war, we’re doing it for her.” Katara internally cursed all the spirits for how self-depreciative, how stubborn, how stupid her brother could be sometimes. In that moment she made a decision; she would do all she could to change that reality. “Just don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”Sokka exhaled a quivering breath. “Okay.”
Relationships: Katara & Sokka (Avatar)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	i can’t recall your face (but i still got love for you)

Katara woke to the sound of a brush on paper.

It didn’t concern her all that much. It was bright outside, the comforting ease of a morning sun. The clouds were close, and Katara thought that maybe if she reached up she could stick her hand right in one. It was calm. Maybe if she tried hard enough, it could last forever.

Going back to sleep may have very well been the best alternative, but the brush strokes were constant and _irritating_. Trying to fall back asleep would be useless now.

 _Probably got hour or two left before midday,_ Katara figured. She yawned, stretched with a squeak, then sat up and rubbed her eyes. 

It didn’t take her longer than ten seconds to identify where the noise had been coming from. In front of her sat Sokka, leaning against the back of Appa’s saddle, with his tongue just _barely_ sticking out as he eyed the paper he was working on. 

“What are you working on?” Katara asked, voice still laced with sleepiness. She yawned again.

Sokka’s eyes darted to her as if startled– he probably hadn’t noticed she woke up. He retracted the brush and held the paper close to his chest (though it made no contact with his tunic, as the ink was still wet). “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”

Sokka rolled his eyes and held out the paper and blew on it to dry the ink. “Then it’s none of your business.”

 _Oh,_ Katara thought, _that’s how it’s gonna be_. “Where did you even get paper and ink from?”

“They had plenty at General Fong’s place. Figured I’d snatch some while we were there. Why do you even care?”

“It woke me up. That’s why I care.”

“ _Please._ I’ve been working on this for, like, an hour. You probably just woke up because the sun rose. It had nothing to do with me.” 

“Well, then that brings us back to square one. What are you working on?”

“It’s _nothing,_ Katara. It’s really not important.” 

“Sorry for just _wondering!_ Tui and La know you can’t focus on a single thing for an _hour_ straight. What makes this so special?” 

Sokka groaned and rolled up the papers. Katara didn’t feel like prying further; instead she rolled her eyes before turning to Aang and chatting about how pretty the clouds looked. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The next time Katara had seen Sokka so intently working on something wasn’t much later. They had been leaving the swamp; exhausted, confused, and… lots of other things. 

Katara hadn’t been paying mind to her brother– or anything, really. All the adrenaline from four or five hours ago was completely gone, and she would have been asleep if Aang wasn’t so _loud._

“Wow, Sokka, nice–”

“Shh!” he responded, clutching the paper (a new one) to his chest in the same fashion as last time. “I’m trying to focus!” 

“Oh!” Aang said, in a whisper that did not serve its intended purpose, “Sorry.”

Katara huffed. “Could you two quiet down? I’m trying to sleep!” 

“Aang is the one being loud,” Sokka countered. “I’m minding my business.”

“I don’t care, mind your business _quieter!”_

“All I was trying to do was compliment Sokka on his drawing of… whatever it is! It kind of looks like a person, but it’s just a vague face shape. I can’t be sure.”

Now Katara was intrigued. At this rate, it would be a while before she could sleep. “I bet your drawing is fine. Who is it of?” 

“No one,” Sokka answered plainly. 

“Well, it’s gotta be _someone,”_ Aang reasoned, “You can’t just draw something from _memory.”_

“I’m telling you guys, it’s just sketches. It’s not... anyone specific.” 

Aang looked perplexed, as if doing calculations in his mind, then his eyes went wide. “Is it the person you saw in the swamp?”

Katara flopped onto her back and gazed up at the stars. “Who _did_ you see in the swamp, anyway? You never told us.”

“Because it isn’t important,” Sokka grumbled as he began to roll up the paper. “Who I saw doesn’t matter.” 

“But you saw them, so they must be important to you.” Katara insisted. Upon seeing how tense her brother was, she rolled onto her side and adjusted her tone from playfully nosy to solemn. “Sokka.”

“What?” Sokka sounded irritated now. Katara told herself he was just tired, but she knew that wasn’t it.

“We’re not in the swamp anymore. It’s over. You can talk about it, you know.” 

“Just forget it,” Sokka replied, lying on his back and then turning away from the two of them. He didn’t sound annoyed like he had just seconds prior, just… defeated. He held the scroll close as if to protect it from thieves. Katara sighed as she and Aang exchanged worried looks. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Katara did not catch Sokka drawing anything for a while. During their time in Ba Sing Se he found he quite enjoyed poetry. What did not change was his secrecy– he never showed anyone any of his poems, as much as Aang begged to hear them. 

That is, until they were on a captured Fire Nation ship. It was another one of _those_ nights, when Katara couldn’t shoo away all of the worries that plagued her. She used to be confident in her healing skills, and had faith in Aang to return, but with each passing day she had begun to doubt herself. She needed to take a walk. 

She hated the ship. It was far too metallic and chilling, each tap of her shoe a reminder of the war they had just taken ten steps closer to losing with the fall of Ba Sing Se. So she tried not to listen to her footsteps and remember her way to the deck, where she could be alone. Sometimes she would go through waterbending forms if she was bored enough, sometimes she would just stand there and stare off into the expanse. 

This time, though, the first thing she noticed after the waft of fresh air against her face was the figure on the left side of the deck, standing completely still. Almost instantaneously she identified it as her brother. Unsure of what to do, she slowly stepped towards him, purposely making her footsteps louder than normal as she made her way over to him. The last thing she wanted was to startle him.

When Katara took her spot some six inches to his left, Sokka turned to her. “Hey, Katara. Can’t sleep?”

Katara then realized he had a drawing with him. No brush, only the paper. On the outside, she only nodded. “Are you drawing again?” 

It was Sokka’s turn to nod. He didn’t say anything else. 

“Well… can I see it?” 

Katara was expecting the answer to be _no._ She expected Sokka to turn away, to shut down, because that’s what he always did. Katara was shocked when her brother only slid the sheet over to her with a very defeated-sounding, “Can you tell who it is?”

Katara studied the paper as best she could in the moonlight. It was a crude drawing, not very detailed, of a girl; the outline of her hair– two loops protruding from the top of her head– unfilled. Framing her face were the outlines of a two braids, intersecting with the outline of her fur coat’s hood. 

“Is this… Yue?” 

Sokka didn’t reply. He only gazed up at the moon. It was nearly full that night. 

Katara continued to look down at the paper. “Is this who you’ve been drawing all this time?” 

“Yes!” Sokka answered, his voice weaved with something Katara could barely recognize as exasperation. “It’s been her this entire time!” 

“Why didn’t you say that? All the secrecy wasn’t very necessary.”

Sokka scoffed. “I’m supposed to protect you, not tell you my sob story of cosmic proportions.”

“I wouldn’t mind a sob story if it meant you would just talk to me every once in a while.”

“That’s _embarrassing,_ Katara! You’re my little sister. I’m the one you go to when you need it, not the other way around!”

“You think I _approve_ of you bottling everything in all the time? You should be able to trust me as much as I trust you!”

“It’s not a trust thing.”

“It’s absolutely a trust thing.”

“No, it’s _not_.” Sokka let out a sigh. ”I’m the leader of our group. I have to support everyone else, be there for them whenever I can. That’s just how it is.”

Katara didn’t answer immediately. “All I’m saying is that you’re worthy of being supported, too. It’s important to me that you know that, and that you actually _believe_ it.” 

Silence fell between them once more. Now Sokka tore his gaze away from the moon, down to the ocean. “I saw Yue at the swamp, you know.” 

“Really? Why didn’t you ever say so?”

“I don’t know, it’s… humiliating, I guess. What happened to her, everything I didn’t do to prevent it.” 

“You did all you could.” 

“But did I? Did I _really,_ Katara?” Sokka snatched away the paper and took a step back. “I had one job, and it was to protect her. I was given a _single_ job and I _failed!”_

“She made her choice, Sokka,” Katara responded, search for any words that would console her brother because she _hated_ seeing him like this, “Yue knew what she had to do. It wasn’t in your hands.”

“Except that it _was!_ If I could have just prevented it, _maybe_ she’d still be _alive_ , not–” Sokka cut himself off and sighed loudly in frustration. “You know, I think you might be right, I guess you always are. She’s not coming back. It’s stupid of me to think she ever could.”

“Sokka, no, that’s not what I–” Katara reached out to her brother, who had begun to pace away. Suddenly he turned back to her, interrupting her.

“No. I get it.” Sokka hung his head, taking one last look at his drawing. “All of my nights screaming up at the sky, pretending she actually hears me, they won’t do anything. They won’t change the fact that I failed her, and it’s only a matter of time until I fail you, too.”

He began to rip the paper to shreds, tossing it in handfuls into the ocean. Once his trembling hands were finally rendered empty, he turned away and wiped his eyes of any tears that had fallen. 

Katara could only wordlessly stare at her brother, watch him be overtaken by all the grief he’s refused to let out. If only she knew the extent of this anger, maybe she’d know what to do as she watched him mutter “goodnight” and trudge back to his room. Maybe she would have stopped him, would have followed him, but there was a slim chance he’d say any more than he already had. He would probably just snap at her, let this misplaced anger get the best of him– because that’s all it was, misplaced anger that Katara just _happened_ to be the one it got let out on (better her than anyone else).

So she left him alone, difficult as it was. The morning after, Sokka did not mention it. Instead he reverted back to all his usual slapstick jokes, reviewed his invasion plans over and over and over again, as if nothing had happened last night.

And it left Katara wondering how often he did this, how often he pulled himself together for the sake of everyone else. It left her wondering if Yue saw how much her sacrifice tore him apart; did it make her regret her choice?

After another unsuccessful hour-long healing session, her father made her eat lunch. It irritated her, the way her father wanted to act like he didn’t pack it up and put the war above his children. It aggravated Katara to see him act like nothing was wrong, but it hurt even more to realize that this was the same exact thing Sokka was doing– keeping it in, acting like everything was perfectly fine when it _wasn’t,_ and hoping no one had the guts to mention it. 

When Katara sat down with her father, she noticed an empty space at their table. “Is Sokka going to join us?” 

“He’s working on his plan. He’ll be just a few minutes,” Hakoda answered. 

Katara couldn’t– _wouldn’t–_ just sit and wait for him. Instead she stood and let her father know she was going to find him. After rounding the corner away from the dining hall, she let out a breath she had been unaware of holding in. Without another thought she kept on moving to Sokka’s room. 

Lightly Katara knocked on the door, not caring to hear a response before opening it. Sure enough Sokka was hunched over the desk in his room, surrounded by maps of the Fire Nation and various crude diagrams. 

“Hey, we’re having lunch,” Katara made sure to keep her voice soft, “Are you okay?” 

Sokka perked up and turned around as if he hadn’t noticed her before. “Huh? Oh, I’ll be there in a second, I’m just kinda in the zone right now. I think I’m making some real strides with this updated invasion plan, since we don’t have the support of the Earth Kingdom anymore. It’s gonna be awesome.” 

“Come on, you can tell us all about it at lunch. I’m sure Dad will listen to you for hours.” Katara could have left it at that, but would that really be fair? “Sokka, are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Sokka rolled his eyes and turned back around to his plans. “Go and eat something, you need it after all those healing sessions. I promise I’ll be there in ten minutes tops.”

 _He wanted to be stubborn? Fine,_ Katara thought, _I can be stubborn._ “I’m not going back unless you come with me.”

Sokka groaned. “Is it really that serious?”

Katara crossed her arms. “Yes. It is. The way you were talking last night, the things you were saying… I’ve never seen you like that. _Sorry_ if I want to make sure you’re not putting your work over your well-being.” 

“Yes, Katara, I’m perfectly okay. _So okay,_ in fact, that I’ll accompany you to lunch right now. Let me just get some finishing touches… _and… done!”_ Sokka promptly stood up from his desk, complete with a stretch and a crack of his knuckles. “Let’s go.” 

And so they had lunch with their father, and Toph, and a few other men of the tribe who wanted to hear about Sokka’s ingenious plan to invade the Fire Nation and take out the Firelord once and for all. Sokka gladly obliged, telling them about this brand new idea he thought of just two days ago– they’re like boats, but they can submerge _entirely_ _underwater_ , and they use _waterbending_ to move around and resurface.

The idea was brilliant, and Katara knew it. Despite this rambling being totally characteristic of her brother, she couldn’t say it didn’t leave a sour taste in her mouth. It didn’t feel genuine, not completely. This invasion plan was his priority right now, the end of this war his driving force, but she couldn’t grasp the idea of waking up fine after breaking down to such tiny pieces just the night before. 

But maybe that was a normal occurrence for Sokka– to scream at the moon regardless if she cared to listen or not, to curse the spirits for taking away something that was _never really his–_ and then wake up the next morning outwardly unscathed. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Katara wasn’t a huge fan of eavesdropping. Sometimes it was necessary, but she didn’t take any particular joy in it. Yet sometimes she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like this time, when she overheard Toph and Sokka’s conversation.

That was the worst part about it; she wasn't meant to hear this, but she heard it all. She was not intent on hearing any more than Sokka’s confession– mortifying as _that_ was. Quickly she got out of the water and dried herself off, extracting most of the water droplets from her clothes and hair. With little care she threw on her Fire Nation clothes and darted back up the cliff. 

Luckily Sokka and Toph had not returned (though Toph could probably sense her franticness from a mile away) but Aang was there, sitting and suspending Momo in the air. “Oh, hey Katara! You alright? Was there something in the water?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Katara answered between pants, “Nothing in the water. I need to talk to Sokka.” 

“Oh, he’s still with Toph. By the way, the soup you made was really good!” Aang gave a sweet smile and continued to playing with Momo. 

“Thanks, I haven’t actually tried it,” Katara sat down near him, bending some of her soup into a bowl. (She found that it _was_ pretty good.) 

With each minute she tried to think of what she would say to Sokka. If he saw her, he wouldn’t mention it, and if he didn’t see her, he wouldn’t mention it. So _she_ would have to bring it up. _Great._

Maybe she should have focused at the task at hand (making up with Toph) but how could she? How could she focus on _anything_ when she just overheard something so personal? Maybe if she could just– that’s it! She can ask Aang!

“Hey Aang, how should I make it up to Toph?”

Aang had nearly dozed off. “Huh? Oh, uh, how well do you think apologizing will do?”

“Meh,” Katara shrugged, “I don’t think she’ll take it.” 

“I’m not really the Toph expert, to be honest.” Aang yawned. “I try to stay off her bad side. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?” 

Katara nodded. _If you can’t beat them, join them. If you can’t beat them, join them._ The only apology Toph would accept is another scam. But that would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it? Or would it just be speaking Toph’s language?

Update: The scam was a _bad idea._

So much had happened in the meantime– throwing her friend in jail, getting thrown in jail with her friend, bending sweat to get out of jail (yikes), running from Sparky Sparky Boom Man (which wasn’t a horrible name, but she’d be caught dead before admitting it), and helping Toph write a letter to her mother– that she had almost forgotten the one thing she had planned to do: talk to Sokka. 

So Katara approached Sokka, determined as ever. It was late, a few hours past sunset, the air refreshingly chilly despite the nearing summer solstice; perfect weather to park yourself a few feet away from a bison and sketch some invasion armor for it. Sokka appeared to be studying Appa unnecessarily closely. Guess nobody has ever made armor for a flying bison, though. 

“Sokka,” Katara mumbled and shook her brother’s shoulder. “I wanna talk to you.” 

Sokka didn’t look up from his sketches. “About what?”

“Uh, about today.” 

_That_ made Sokka turn around, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What happened today? Besides fighting with Toph which ultimately led to you getting thrown in jail and then almost blown up? Disapproving of my totally awesome messenger hawk that _will_ work once I train him? Or maybe when you–”

“I heard your talk with Toph,” Katara interrupted. A part of her wanted to leave, to keep this secret locked away, but it wouldn’t be fair. Sokka didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark. “I heard what you said about Mom. I heard it all.”

“Oh, you did?” Sokka’s voice had shifted as it always does when it leaves joke mode. It became more solemn, more somber. It felt unnatural to hear from him. “What’s there to talk about?” 

“I don’t know,” Katara nervously fiddled with her hands, “I just… wanted you to know that I heard it.” 

An expression similar to _surprise_ ran across Sokka’s face. “That’s it?” 

“...Yes? What else would I say?”

“Huh. I don’t know, I thought there’d be more judging involved.”

Katara almost had to take a step back at that one. “What the fuck? Sokka, why would I _judge_ you for that?” 

“I don’t know!” Sokka threw his hands up in desperation. “It’s just embarrassing. I know you’re thinking it.”

“I’m definitely not thinking that.” 

“I know you are _._ You still have entire _dreams_ about Mom, and I can’t even remember her face. It’s embarrassing, you can admit it.” 

“I won’t.” Katara crossed her arms, “I just… didn’t know that’s how it was. Is that why you never talk about her?” 

Sokka’s eyes were locked on the ground as he put down his papers and sighed. “Do we need to talk about this?”

Katara sat down beside him and put a hand on his knee. “We don’t have to, but I would like to.”

Sokka only rolled his eyes. “If you’re expecting some sort of tearful monologue, you’re out of luck. What happened last time was a _one-time thing.”_

“I don’t know, but…” Katara looked down at Sokka’s papers. At the bottom of the stack, nearly hidden away entirely, lied another drawing. Then it all connected. “Wait.”

“What?”

“You draw Yue to remember her, don’t you?” Katara looked up to meet her brother’s eyes, ice blue and riddled with terror. 

Sokka did not respond. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head away. Katara waited for words that never came. Sokka collected the papers and started for his tent. 

Katara didn’t follow, only stood and called after him. “Sorry. If I went… too far.” 

“No,” he replied, head hung low. “You nailed it. If I could draw Mom, I would. But I can’t. So Yue it is, over and over again, while I can still pick up the pieces.” 

“You know, if you want a point of reference, just use yourself. You look just like Mom.”

Sokka froze in his place, his back turned to his sister. 

“I can only ever see her eyes when I look at yours. And she used to stick her tongue out when she focused, just like you. She was left handed, too. That had me thinking I was doing everything wrong. She could tell an amazing story, but that one might be a toss-up between you two. I’m not sure. She danced like she had two left feet. As a kid you refused to eat sea prunes that weren’t cooked by her. She taught you how to braid! And maybe you complained about it being too girly, but it took your mind off feeling sad whenever Dad went on a hunting trip without you. But I think her best attribute was how good an artist she was. Clearly, you got it from her.”

Sokka stood alarmingly still. Slowly he turned around, then all at once threw himself at Katara for an embrace. (Which she graciously accepted, of course. She’s only waited for this moment for, what, years?)

“Thank you,” Sokka mumbled. “If only I could care as much as you do.”

Katara pried him off and took his shoulders. “You know that isn’t what I mean. I know you care, just in different ways.” 

“I wasn’t even there when she died, Katara. I was too busy hurling my boomerang at no one.” Sokka wiggled out of her grip and turned around again, instinctively wiping his eyes. “All I’m supposed to do as a warrior is protect the village and protect my family. I couldn’t do that.” 

“Sokka, you were ten years old.”

“As if we’re that much older now?” 

Katara didn’t have a response. Sometimes she forgot how young she was, how young they _all_ are. Sokka is only a year older than her and yet seemed so… _grown_. In a way, he was. Thrown into this war years before he had the chance to even go through his ice dodging trials. 

“Ending this war, we’re doing it for her.” Katara internally cursed all the spirits for how self-depreciative, how stubborn, how _stupid_ her brother could be sometimes. In that moment she made a decision; she would do all she could to change that reality. “Just... don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?” 

Sokka exhaled a quivering breath. “Okay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so this is barely a fic. probably out of character too but i COULD NOT get it out of my head. i just thought about the concept of sokka drawing yue so he doesnt forget her like he forgot his mother, and the immense guilt that comes with it. like fr i just think about how much guilt and grief and anger (at himself) he feels and ... this is the product. just a little angst oneshot i wrote then got stuck on then wrote more of. it’s barely edited so go crazy lol.
> 
> also obligatory folklore lyrics for the title. this one is from ‘seven’!!!
> 
> i have a lot of thoughts about sokka, if u wanna hear them follow @ahsokatara on twitter or @coveredinsun on tumblr thanks :)


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